Relief Effort
by Moonhawk64
Summary: John just has to join the relief effort in Japan.    Now complete.  Really.
1. Chapter 1

Relief Effort By Moonhawk64

A/N: Because I needed to. And because my prayers go out to the people of Japan, and all the search and rescue crews working so hard to help.

3/19/2011 - I originally stated - rather emphatically - that this one chapter was a oneshot, and I wasn't going to write any more on this. Boy was I wrong! This story **demanded** I write more!

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Dr. John H. Watson, M.D., late of the British Army, now flatmate to one of the most brilliant - and eccentric - men he'd ever heard of, stared, appalled, at the telly, as images of the disaster in Japan were played out in small scale. Small scale on the telly, yes, but John had traveled in Afghanistan's bombed-out war-zones enough to come closer to truly comprehending the real scale of the disaster than most.

"God help them." He breathed, tears pricking his eyes as he saw the massive damage - farm fields and whole towns scraped completely clean and replaced with roiling water and mud-browned debris. They would be finding bodies for days - even weeks - and possibly thousands would never be found at all.

Suddenly, his phone rang, and John jumped. Sherlock, closer to it where it lay on the table than John (and to John's surprise), picked it up.

"It's Mycroft." Sherlock frowned, but, again to John's surprise, answered it anyway. "Yes?" He said with more politeness than usual, given the acrimonious relationship he had with his older brother. He listened for a few moments, then told John, "Mycroft says we're sending search and rescue crews to Japan and -." But John leapt up and grabbed the phone from the younger man.

"Mycroft, it's John. You know about my surgical and triage experience, but I also spent some time in Afghanistan with some U.S. blokes from San Francisco. I was curious about how they dealt with earthquakes, and they gave me a good deal of information, not just about the main quakes, but about the aftershocks, too. It's not the same as actual experience, I grant you, but I daresay I know more than most here. What I'm trying to say is -." John was apparently interrupted by Mycroft, but Sherlock already knew where he was going with this, and stiffened. He didn't like it. Not one bit. Disasters happened, people (as Moriarty so contemptuously pointed out) die. He had to bite his tongue not to protest, but bite it he did. Because John knew Sherlock and respected him; didn't try to change him (except for occasional reprimands if he went too far outside the boundries of social etiquette), and Sherlock could do no less for John. John had to go. And Sherlock would not insult him - or their friendship - by trying to talk him out of it.

"Yes, I know what I need. I can be ready to go in half an hour." John was saying. "Yes, I will. And...thank you." John rang off and glanced to Sherlock.

"Go." Sherlock said only. "I'll call Sarah and let her know." John gave him a grateful look.

"You'll take care of yourself while I'm gone?" John was enough Sherlock's friend to be worried, even as he started for his room to pack the few things he'd need.

"Yes." Sherlock assured him with a smile. "I'm sure Mrs. Hudson won't mind seeing to that. Worry about yourself and your patients. I'll be fine."

And John smiled briefly and left the room.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Huh, so this story DID find a way to extend itself!

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The Personal Blog of John H. Watson

On The Ground

Day One:

On the ground in Japan. Devastation heartbreaking. Task overwhelming. UK Search and Rescue joining with US and Chinese teams. Chinese SAR team-member said "...give yourself a reachable goal for the day, for the hour, and focus only on reaching that goal..." Am being moved west past damage to perform triage.

Hospital filled to overflowing, but eerily calm. Japanese people incredibly patient, calm and stoic. British stiff upperlip? Japanese stoicism gives a run for it's money.

Lacerations, contusions, broken bones. Rapidly picking up phrases in Japanese: "where does it hurt?" "you're safe now" "you'll be all right". Practising the 4 A's: Assure, Assess, Assign, Advance. Rinse and repeat.

Aftershocks - hundreds of them. Brace yourself, cover your patient from possible falling debris, ride it out, continue working.

Darkness falling. Temperatures falling. Eat something - don't know what. Keep working.


	3. Chapter 3

The Personal Blog of John H. Watson

Aftermath

Day Two:

Hundreds of thousands without shelter in near-freezing temps. Now seeing hypothermia cases. Also mild dehydration, but most people short on water are unreachable. US Navy airlifting food, water, blankets using huge helicopters, but it's not nearly enough. People still incredibly calm and patient.

Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant having coolant problems - power out - generators running, but conserving energy.

Still aftershocks, some big ones. ride out & keep working.

SAR crews pulling far more bodies out than survivors. Heartbreaking. Take a deep breath keep working.

Over 24 hrs. working. Nurse took my arm, showed me to a cot. Don't know what she's saying but intent obvous. Won't take no for an answer. I know she's right; exhaustion = mistakes. Going to sleep now.


	4. Chapter 4

The Personal Blog of John H. Watson

Worries

Day Three:

Fukushima Plant coolant problems continuing, but radiation still not harmful levels. Still, people evac'd from immediate area.

Devastation enormous. So many lost everything! Shortages of everything - few shops open & running out of basics. Rationing of food and petrol. People in long lines waiting patiently for whatever they can get. Outside damaged areas, life & work going on almost as always.

Still overwhelming numbers of injured coming in as more people make it out of damaged areas. Now starting to see more dehydration and infected lacerations. Also more hypothermia as people spent second night in the cold. But still calm and patient.

Someone shoves bowl of rice & bottle of water in my hand. Eat without really thinking about it. Continue working.

Fukushima Plant problems worsening. Conflicting news: local news says little risk, foreign news doomsaying. No one knows who to believe, but explosions worrying. People calm but tense.

So many bodies! Running out of body bags. Keep working. Aftershocks. Keep working. 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: Between the time difference from Japan to England, and from England to Southeast US, where I'm writing from, I'm not sure of the timeline of this story. I believe the UK team arrived sometime Saturday in Japan, so this chapter, Day Four, is probably taking place on Tuesday in Japan (I'm writing this on Wednesday afternoon where I am). This is as far as the story insisted upon writing itself, so I don't know how much more I'll write. I do intend to write a chapter of John's homecoming (whenever it happens), and probably some commentary once we know exactly what happens with the Fukushima Plant, but other than that, I don't know.

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The Personal Blog of John H. Watson

Day Four:

Fukushima Plant problems and radiation on everyone's mind. Every patient I see wants Iodine tablets, & won't be assured that radiation levels aren't harmful. People don't really understand radiation, and they fear what they don't understand; an enemy invisible and implacable.

To those who are wondering, I'm in Yamagata, due west of Sendai & about 100km north of Fukushima. In no danger here, but supplies of everything running out. Starting to run short of supplies here, but not so many survivors coming in, either. Still too many people cut off. Also, few survivors being found; mostly bodies.

MH said: Bravery is the kindest word for stupid. SH said: There's no such thing as heroes. Both of you: NEVER SAY THAT TO ME AGAIN YOU SODDING GITS! The people of Japan as a whole, the SAR crews, & especially the so-called Fukushima Fifty, are the bravest people I've ever known of. Working exhaustively, desperately, heartbreakingly, they keep going despite all odds, despite fear and privation, despite the cold. That's what heroism is, and these people are!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Not satisfied with this chapter, but in a hurry. May add more & repost later. Mostly just trying to do a chapter for each day.

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The Personal Blog of John H. Watson

Day Five

Slept. Ate pot noodles. Supplies of everything very low, not just in town, but here in the hospital, as well. No more immediate injuries, but now seeing older infected injuries, sickness - NOT radiation sickness eyeroll - but from lack of food and mildly unsanitary conditions (thank God this isn't a third-world country or we'd be inundated in typhoid, dysentery, etc. by now), hypothermia, and chronic illnesses of people who lost their meds in the disaster.

Foreigners leaving in fear. Some locals, too. People starting to panic, but not chaotic. Still spending a lot of time reassuring people about radiation.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: We're into the home stretch, folks. Just read a news report that said the UK and US SAR crews would be coming home shortly, so only a couple of more chapters to go. Will end this story at or shortly after John's homecoming.

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The Personal Blog of John H. Watson

At The End

Day Six:

Ate rice. Running out of everything. Including rice. The medical staff is rationing severely. We can't even feed the patients. No supplies coming in because there's no fuel. Power still out to vast areas. The clean-up has started, so roads are finally being cleared to isolated areas, but there are still so many in shelters with no heat, little or no food. Many have not bathed since the earthquake for lack of enough clean water. So many have lost everything: homes, possessions, whole families. Sometimes it seems like there is no hope. But there are still the occasional stories of reunions of family members, and the clean-up has started, and that is the first step to recovery.

The search and rescue crews have called off the search and we will be leaving within the next couple of days, since there are no more survivors being found, only bodies. It is now becoming a recovery operation. There is little I can do, either, since the problems I'm seeing are caused by lack of supplies, and we have none, and so can't help. It's heartbreaking, but there is nothing else I can do except, perhaps, leave and let someone else have the resources I'm currently using. That's the one good thing about the radiation scare: people are leaving and lessening the strain on resources.

Still, I know I did all I could here, and it did help - immensely - and that's good enough for me. I am content.


	8. Chapter 8

The Personal Blog of John H. Watson

Coming Home

Things I want (in no particular order):

A cuppa.

A huge meal of fresh, well-cooked, red meat.

A cuppa.

A very long, very hot bath.

A cuppa.

To sleep for about a week.

Did I mention tea?

Things I take away from Japan (also in no particular order):

An incredible respect for the Japanese people.

Perfect chopstick-wielding technique.

A sense of leaving a job left half-finished.

A sense of enormous accomplishment.

A loathing of pot noodles and, especially, rice.

A much better understanding of despair - and determination.

A smattering of Japanese - to go with my smattering of Farsi and of American. American is not a separate language you say? HA! Just talk to someone from California. Or the South. Is "hella" a word? Or "sho nuff"? And exactly what does "yee ha" mean, anyway? Don't even get me started on New Yorkers.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: I can only find stories from Wednesday & Thursday saying that the UK & US SAR teams would be leaving within the next few days. I'm going to assume that by now (Saturday afternoon on 3/19) they have left and are on their way back to their respective countries (and may have already gotten home). Therefore, I'm posting the last two chapters of this story. Unless something catastrophic happens that causes me to need to change things (like another huge earthquake or something), then you may consider this story complete. Really.

And thanks to all who reviewed. Your positive words are greatly appreciated. Love ya!

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Dr. John Watson exited the aeroplane slowly, among the last of the search and rescue team to disembark. Mycroft Holmes stood beside the limousine, umbrella at his side, examining him critically. He looked thinner and quite haggard. John didn't notice the car at first, or, at least, didn't realize it was waiting for him, so Mycroft moved the umbrella just enough for the doctor to note the movement. Without breaking stride, he changed direction, although he did say something to the others that Mycroft couldn't make out at this distance. However, the goodbye waves that were exchanged were obvious enough. He slowly approached the auto, and, as he got closer, Mycroft could make out other things, as well. Such as the fact that he was also dusty and his eyes held a haunted look. Mycroft didn't blame him; so many dead, so much devastation. John was only human, after all, and Mycroft did not begrudge him the emotion. He'd had a long talk with Sherlock - right after the one Mrs. Hudson had with Sherlock, and right before the one DI Lestrade had with Sherlock. They had all basically told him the same thing - if Sherlock dared say anything derogatory about the Japanese disaster, or John's part in it, no one would ever find his remains ("And I'm a cop, so I know how to do it right!" Lestrade had informed him). Sherlock had huffed indignantly, and sullenly agreed. But agreed he had.

Mycroft did not break John's silence on the ride back to Baker Street. He did, however, hand John a business card with the name of a very good therapist/grief counselor that he had vetted himself. John still said nothing, but glanced at the card, smiled gratefully at Mycroft, and placed the card carefully in his wallet.

Finally, the limousine pulled up in front of the familiar building. John wearily hauled himself out of the car, pulling his bag out with him. As he turned toward the steps, Mycroft stopped him by putting the umbrella across his knees. John stopped and looked at him, but said nothing.

"I'm sure the Japanese people thanked you for your assistance, however, England thanks you, too. A more tangible thanks will be showing up in your bank account within a few days."

"In- in my bank account?" John asked, confused. Mycroft smiled.

"Indeed. Hazard Pay." Mycroft pulled the door closed, and the car drove off, leaving John, stunned, on the doorstep.

John slowly entered 221 Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson was waiting, but only hugged him hard and said, tearfully, "Welcome home," before letting him go and shooing him towards the stairs to flat B.

John tiredly unlocked the door and entered to the familiar chaos. He smiled weakly, relieved at the sight of home. Suddenly, Sherlock appeared from out of the kitchen, holding a cup of tea and a plate on which was a huge sandwich piled high with fresh roast beef. Wordlessly, he handed both to John, then went to sit on the sofa. John let his bag fall to the floor beside the door, and took his tea and sandwich to the armchair with the Union Jack pillow.

"For this, I'd ask you to marry me, but I suspect Mrs. Hudson was the actual source. Thank you anyway, though." John said with a tired smile.

Sherlock examined him intently, seeing the same things Mycroft had, however, he said nothing as John gratefully devoured the sandwich, obviously ravenous, but just as obviously wanting to savor it. Finally, the sandwich gone, John lifted the teacup, smiled and toasted Sherlock more cheerfully, and began to slowly sip the still-hot beverage.

"You forgot a category, you know." Sherlock said suddenly. Startled, John nearly spilled his tea, placing the cup back in the saucer with a hand shaking from fatigue and stress.

"Sorry, what?" John said, mind obviously not firing on all cylinders. Sherlock ignored it, and explained.

"Your little rant on Day Four. About heroes. You named three categories: the Japanese people, the Search and Rescue teams, and the workers at the Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant. But you missed a category. The medical personnel who worked just as tirelessly. Including one Dr. John H. Watson." Sherlock chuckled once, drily. "I may not be a hero, but there are plenty who will say that you are. 'Despite fear and privation.' you said. I suppose that is what makes one a hero, isn't it? Gives me an excellent example to go by, hmm?"

"Something to work for, eh?" John said, smiling slightly.

"No." Sherlock told him honestly. "I think heroism is beyond me. Not sure I'd want to be one, anyway. Too much stress. On the other hand, I think one in this partnership is quite enough." Suddenly, John yawned hugely, and Sherlock took his tea from him. "Go get some sleep. You're exhausted."

"Right." John said, stood up, grabbed his bag with more effort than it should have taken, and trudged wearily up the stairs to his bedroom.

Hours later, Sherlock was in the kitchen, in the middle of an experiment, when he heard John give a hoarse cry. Frowning, Sherlock quickly secured the experiment, then went up the stairs to John's bedroom. He hesitantly pushed the door open. In the dim light, he could see little, but his sharp hearing picked up the sound of quiet weeping. Sherlock was at a loss. He didn't know what to do in a situation like this, so he stood uncertainly at the door until the sounds of crying had stopped.

"John?" Sherlock inquired softly. John gasped, and turned toward the younger man. He sighed, and sat up. "Um, do you want to talk about it?" Sherlock asked awkwardly.

"No." John replied. "But tomorrow I'm making an appointment to see someone."

"Good." Sherlock said, grateful that it wasn't Sherlock that John would talk to; the consulting detective had no idea how to handle the situation. However, he stood a moment, undecided, then said, "Come downstairs on the sofa." The taller man turned away, retreating back to the sitting room. John frowned. He knew it would be a long time before he could sleep again, and wasn't sure light and activity would do him any good. On the other hand, being alone was even worse. With another sigh, John got up, dragged a duvet off the bed, and trudged reluctantly downstairs.

As he ensconsed himself on the sofa, Sherlock took his violin out of it's case. John nearly groaned aloud. If light and activity wasn't much conducive to falling asleep, then certainly Sherlock scraping away like a dying cat on the violin wouldn't help. To his surprise, however, Sherlock began to play. He played something gentle and quiet that John didn't recognize. After a moment, Sherlock smiled slightly, and winked at him. Smiling back, John laid down on the sofa and wrapped himself in the duvet.

It only took ten minutes for Sherlock's gentle playing to lull John back to sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

Epilogue

Sherlock was good for a whole fortnight, although sometimes the effort was obvious, even to John. And John, recovering from exhaustion, mild malnourishment, and grief, began to wonder how long Sherlock would be able to keep it up. John didn't know what had been said to the younger man, or by whom, but he was actually grateful. And a bit amused.

Then a call came in from Lestrade about an arson/murder down on the docks.

"Can you use my help?" John asked, beginning to chafe at his inactivity.

"I don't know." Sherlock said absently, as he shrugged into his coat and scarf. "Do you think you can use your brain for something more than keeping your ears apart?"

"Probably not." John admitted with a smile. "But what would you do without your Blogger?" He asked.

"True." Sherlock admitted, giving John a wide, genuine smile as he tossed the other man his coat. "Come on then. The game is on!"

The End


End file.
